Maybe I Should Get a Bigger Ring...

Last Saturday I was in Barnes and Noble, minding my own business, kind of checking out the relationships section, which, in this store, is right next to the sex books. This guy comes into the isle, and is a little too close to my personal space, so I scooch over a bit to give myself some more room, and (red flag! red flag!) he moves over too. I move over again, a little more this time, and he moves right with me, keeping the same distance between us. Okay, now I'm a little weirded out, but I keep studiously avoiding eye contact (I don't even know what the guy looked like, I was avoiding eye contact THAT MUCH) and think about leaving to go find my husband. Before I can, though, the guy says, "Find anything good?"

Short aside: when I'm by myself, I often imagine different dangerous scenarios, just to keep me on my toes. What if that guy walking toward me down the hall suddenly tries to grab me? I'll elbow him in the gut and kick him in the crotch. Okay, what if that guy tries something...? And so on. And just before this guy came into the isle I'd been wondering what I would do if someone said something inappropriate to me regarding those very pink books.

So, this is what was running through my head when he says, "Find anything good?" I had imagined a snappy comeback, something like, "Just who do you think you are, stupid?" or even just flashing my ring (because, to be fair, it was on the other side of me out of his sight). But in the second after he said it, while my breath was still caught in my throat, I just decided to be rude, and I walked away without saying anything, without looking at him, as though I hadn't even heard him.

Now my brain turns back on and I starting screaming to myself, "Oh my gosh, what the heck, I just got harassed in the sex isle, I think I'm gonna die, WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?" I found him soon after, and told him what happened. We escaped to the manga section and I didn't leave his side for the rest of the trip. He was outraged on my behalf, but in the end, when I'd calmed down a little, I had to admit that probably the guy was just very socially awkward, or possibly looking for a one night stand, and not actively trying to harass married women. I came to this opinion because I think that this guy (who I did not get a good look at) may have been the same guy who, right before this, rushed into the isle, slammed a book onto the shelf, and rushed away. (The book was something like "How to Make Love to a Woman" or something.) I can just image him thinking desperately of something to say, and I feel bad that this was all he could come up with.

But not bad enough to dignify him with a response.

Fear is the soul killer

I think I'm afraid of success. Afraid of climbing up too high on my potential and falling off. Afraid of being more visible and therefore more subject to laughter and scorn. Afraid of giving it my all and my all not being enough. Being anonymous is easier. It's comfortable. It's the known. When will I finally work up the courage to put my full effort behind something? To work hard and get past initial failures and succeed? When will I stop being afraid?

If you give a mouse a cookie... it will eat it and infest your house.

So the other night I saw a ballet version of Romeo and Juliet. There was this really touching scene when Romeo realizes Juliet is dead, and he takes her limp body and tries to dance with it. It was done really well (she did sort of help him a little, but it wasn’t distracting at all) and it was very moving. But of course it made me think of necrophilia (Despite the fact that I didn't want to think about necrophilia, cuz, ew). Which of course meant I had to look up the Wikipedia article on it, which of course lead me to the article on praying mantises, which of course meant that I was clicking around Wikipedia for hours, which of course meant that eventually I ended up at the article for Romeo and Juliet. Of course.

Take that Felicia Bond! Speaking of which, I’m going to go make some cookies now.

(Okay, okay, that’s not how it actually went down, but honestly, would you have been surprised if it had?)

Zzzzzzzzzz.....

Apparently I have mono, which I was pretty sure I did. The doctor didn’t think so, but when the test results came back he said, “Well, it looks like your instincts were correct.”

Sometimes I hate being right.

Please help

You may have seen the collection of links on the sidebar of this blog having to do with webcomics. I love reading webcomics, partly because I want to make one when I grow up, and partly because there is such a sense of community involved. I mention this because the person who draws Planet Karen, a young woman who lives in England, recently had her entire apartment building burn down. She has been able to salvage almost nothing. She ran out with her shoes and a coat, and that's about all she has. It seems odd, but I feel like I know Karen. Her comic is a diary comic, meaning she doesn't write about fictionalized characters, she writes about her own life. I have watched her go through learning she has diabetes, battling depression, fighting loneliness, and somehow she always manages to find witty and insightful things to say about what happens to her. But this time, she doesn't just need readership. She needs help. I am going to spare what I can and use the donation button on her webpage for the first time ever. "Donating the price of a pair of socks buys me a pair of socks," she said. "The price of a can opener buys me a can opener." I don't know how many of you who read this blog click on any of my links, but if you have a few spare minutes, please click on the link to Planet Karen. I'm not asking you to donate. I know I would feel weird giving money to a stranger, but like I said, I feel like I know her. I've read her comic every day for years. I just wanted to get the word out. It's about all I can do.

Life, the Universe, and Green Beans

Just because they tell you it's good for you doesn't make the green beans taste better.

New Job

Well, sort of. I still work in the same area at the library, but I have different duties. Instead of working the desk, and responding to the beck and call of the unwashed masses, now I get to sit at a desk in the back and oversee the turning in and picking of books people have put on hold. And deal with the whiny emails of the unwashed masses. But there will be a lot less of those than there were at the desk.